The Christianity of Fight Club

As promised, here's my thoughts on Fight Club and Christianity.

Ignore the urine-tainted soup. Block out the spliced-in pornography. Remove the mayhem from Project Mayhem and what is left? Underneath the destructive nature of Chuck Palahniuk’s universe in Fight Club is a religious framework. In fact, much of the doctrine and structure of Fight Club and Project Mayhem is uniquely Christian. Reverse the concept of sin, and enter into the religion of Tyler Durden. In this world, there is a God, a doctrine, and a code – all of which have striking parallels to Christianity. This Fight Club-Christianity connection reveals an innate human longing for more in life than the material, a greater goal. It suggest that humans desire a sense of purpose beyond their own individualistic needs to be a part of a more grandiose plan; a single cog in a grander scheme.

Why Christianity? Even in the first few page turns we immediately begin to note hinted references to Christianity through Chuck Palahniuk’s use of language. In the first encounter at the disease support groups, the unnamed narrator alludes to the Resurrection. “Every evening I died, and every evening, I was born. Resurrected,” (22). The dramatic tint added through the shorter sentence structure and paused-filled monologue gives a stronger weight to these words. Noting this, it is probable that the author intended this allusion to Christ. Later on, we encounter descriptions of being “anointed”, “saved”, and “resurrected”, clear indications of biblical stories. At one point, the author even describes each night of fight-club as a “church-like” experience. Whether consciously or not, Chuck Palahniuk writes in a manner that highly suggests a Christian undertone.

This possibility, however, solidifies in the presence of unmistakable, direct references to Christianity that occur later in the novel. In his flashback memories the unnamed narrator uses Biblical figures – Jesus, God, and even ‘Old Testament angels’ – to aid his descriptions (14, 141, 207). At one point, Tyler Durden even cites God’s promise to Abraham (found in Genesis and Hebrews), saying that being “numbered with the grains of sand on the beach and the stars in the sky” was not enough to gain God’s attention and garner hope for damnation or redemption (142). In light of cited bible verses and familiarity with Christian concepts of God’s damnation and redemption, we can assume Chuck Palahniuk’s knowledge of the Bible and Christianity. The book’s tie to Christianity is evident.

In the opening scene as the unnamed narrator tongues the barrel of a gun, he questions where Jesus would have been (in history) if no one had written the gospels (15). Then instead of contemplating death, he concludes that he would turn Tyler into a legend by telling Tyler’s story, by writing Tyler’s ‘gospel’. And on the following page, the flashback story of Tyler Durden begins; in a sense, Fight Club is the Book of Tyler.

In this twisted version of Christianity, Tyler is God. At the narrator and Tyler’s first meeting, Tyler constructs a shadow of a hand using logs – a shadow that would be perfect only for a brief moment. Upon finishing, he sat in the “palm of perfection that he’d created himself,” suggesting that the creator, Tyler, is perfect (33). This scene calls to mind the biblical Creation. Created perfect by a perfect creator, this work was perfect only very briefly, much like how Eden, the biblical perfect world, quickly succumbed to the Fall of Man.

Concerning creation, we must first address the chicken-egg paradox of Tyler and the narrator. To appropriately compare the biblical Creation to Tyler’s birth, we must ask: who created who? Did Tyler create the narrator, or did the narrator create Tyler? A psychiatrist’s definition of schizophrenia and a straight-laced reading of Fight Club might indicate that Tyler is the created, the imagined. However, in the context of fight club as a religion, Tyler clearly becomes the creator. Although in the biological sense Tyler is a hallucination of the narrator, it is Tyler who resets the narrator’s life to zero (after his own version of an apartmental “big bang”) and guides the unnamed narrator through the IKEA-removed, anti-civilization lifestyle. Once the distinction is made between the pre and post-Tyler versions of the narrator, Tyler becomes God and the narrator, Adam.

The fact that their relationship involves the use of a single body is significant to our mapping onto Christian beliefs. Ephesians 2:22; 1 John 3:24; 4:13, etc describe how God (in the form of the Holy Spirit) lives in us. The incarnation of God within each individual Christian lives in us, speaks to us, and guides our daily actions and decisions.[1] In much a similar albeit more concrete way, Tyler is a part of the narrator and it is important that they share a body. Christians serve as vessels for God’s plan and desires; the narrator (again, more literally) serves as a vessel for Tyler.

Moreover, the almighty Tyler, god of a distorted cult religion, shares the qualities of omnipresence and omniscience – attributes of the Christian God (Jeremiah 23:23-24). Tyler is first introduced to the reader while on the world’s tallest building (12), the highest point of civilization. From here he looks down on a world that he manipulates through Project Mayhem and the space monkeys. But by this time, “nobody knows Tyler Durden. He’s become legend. He is everywhere and nowhere.” At this final scene in the story, Tyler has transcended the need for a physical presence; he exists in the minds and actions of every follower. Even his disciples do not listen to the words from Tyler and the narrator’s shared body. They boot him from a fight club, use him as a “human sacrifice”, and no longer heed his orders. Tyler’s true existence is far beyond his physical location.

Similarly, Tyler is omniscient. The Christian God is hailed and praised as all-knowing. For the purposes of fight club and Project Mayhem, Tyler, too, is all-knowing. For every small task, Tyler provides detailed and unusually intelligent instructions. He knows the three ways to make explosives. He knows how to make napalm from scratch. He can organize country-wide rebellions with ease and even fool his own bodily host. Tyler’s true omniscience, however, comes with being the only person to fully understand Project Mayhem. All other members only know their assigned task and can only hope their accomplishments serve a greater purpose. With omnipresence and omniscience at hand, “everyone… is part of Tyler Durden, and vice versa” (154).

To complete our bizarre religious comparison, we must reconcile the most obvious fundamental differences between Christianity’s moral code and that of Fight Club. God probably would not think kindly of Project Mayhem nor would Tyler follow the Ten Commandments. But realizing that both Christians’ and Fight Club’s share the ultimate goal of salvation, we can begin to understand what “sin” would be in the Fight Club religion. In the practice of Christianity, followers live in the image of Christ and attempt to act in a manner that God would deem good. This means helping the poor, being a good Samaritan, and in general doing activities that help to ease the suffering in the world. In essence, in the path of life Christian’s strive to ease and remove the ‘diseased’ components of society (suffering, pain, disbelief). What changes when applied to Fight Club is the definition of ‘diseased’; here, ‘diseased’ is defined as the chains bound to a person by their own environment, that which blinds a person from knowing their own power. To sin, in this case, would be everything that was the pre-Tyler narrator’s life – subjection to material idolatry and commercial oppression. If instead of a stable government Christians lived under an unjust, unrighteous regime, it would be biblical to take action, which at times was violent (fleeing Egypt, Jericho, punishment of King David). Tyler believes that the culture is oppressive, and Project Mayhem and its followers are the action he takes against it.

Before discussing the ‘religious doctrine’ of Fight Club, it is important to note the significance of ritual both in Christian practice and in fight club. One particularly interesting ritual common to both ‘religions’ is Sunday as a day of rest The very first fight between Tyler and the narrator was on a Sunday night. Fight Club itself takes place Sunday morning, and “except for five hours from two until seven on Sunday morning, fight club doesn’t exist” (52). The Remaining Men Together support group, the group with Big Bog after which the narrator could finally relax and sleep, also took place on a Sunday night. In short, for the narrator Sunday was when events took place that allowed him to relax and lessen his insomnia (or so he thought). For the narrator, Sunday was a day of rest.

From here, we proceed through the ritualistic path towards becoming a Tyler-Christian - that is, a space monkey – and show that the path is remarkably similar. As a word of caution, I have neither the seminary training nor the proper resources to firmly assert my beliefs as being the most wide-spread or most widely-accepted conception of Christianity. The concept of Christianity discussed will be my own understanding of it and my personal practice of it, limited in scope as it may be.

One of the key ideas in Protestantism is salvation by God’s grace, not by works. What this entails is nicely captured by Isaiah 64:6: “… all our righteous acts are like filthy rags.” This verse suggests that the sinful nature of humans dwarfs all our ‘righteous acts’ in comparison to the purity of God. Furthermore, this belief implies that we cannot save ourselves; self-improvement is ineffective for salvation. The unnamed narrator of Fight Club understands this key belief and it later becomes part of fight club and Project Mayhem. At his support group, he realizes “everything you can ever accomplish will end up as trash” and that “anything you’re every proud of will be thrown away” (17). On the day of the first fight club, this realization leads to the idea that “maybe self-improvement isn’t the answer” (52). This is step one to joining fight club.

Step two after accepting this idea is to hit rock bottom. Although the Tyler-Durden interpretation of hitting bottom may contain more painful side effects, the underlying concept is the same. I have, on more than one occasion, used the phrase ‘you need to hit rock bottom before you can move forward’ when discussing Christianity with a peer. Chuck Palahniuk even recognizes the Christian connection of this statement, explicitly including Jesus in the dialogue “Tyler says I’m nowhere near hitting the bottom, yet. And if I don’t fall all the way, I can’t be saved. Jesus did it with his crucifixion thing” (70). What ‘hitting bottom’ means for Christianity is accepting our own sinful natures (1 John 1:8-10; James 1:13-15); or as Marla states it from the Fight Club context, it means “embrac[ing] [her] own festering diseased corruption” (65). While for fight club and Project Mayhem this concept also entailed physically losing everything, the Christian belief is that only after you accept the sinful nature and lose the idolizations of yourself are you ready to accept Christ. “’It’s only after you’ve lost everything,’ Tyler says, ‘that you’re free to do anything’” (70).

It is at this point in both the Christian walk and in Project Mayhem training that the complete realization of a lack of self-sufficiency (step one and two) creates an inner desire to follow something beyond oneself. It is this dearth that motivates one to follow Christ, or to follow Tyler. By putting goals and objectives outside of oneself, one effectively removes the possibility of failing oneself and increases self-worth by participating in a larger project. To examine this, we compare the followers of Jesus[2] to those of Tyler.

The space monkeys following Tyler in fight club and Project Mayhem parallels the disciples following Christ. In the Parable of the Rich Young Ruler (Matthew 19:16-30; Mark 10:17-31; Luke 18:18-30), Jesus explains to the young lad that he must leave all his material possessions to follow him. Jesus’ disciples had all already done so. The narrator, arguably the first ‘disciple’ of Tyler, had to (albeit forcibly) do the same. The narrator and all the space monkeys recruited for Mayhem seminary only had the bare minimum needed to survive: shirts, shoes, toothbrush, and little else. The purpose of the Parable was to teach the young ruler to break ties to material possessions. For the narrator, again it was the same; “I’m breaking my attachment to physical power and possessions… because only through destroying myself can I discover the greater power of my spirit.” When the disciples left everything behind to follow Jesus, Jesus changed their names. When Project Mayhem entrants left everything to follow Tyler, they had no names. We begin to see here Biblical model which Fight Club fits.

After removing material possessions and becoming properly enlisted as a member of Project Mayhem, the disciples must complete certain tasks: the “witnessing” of fight club.

A popular misconception about witnessing in Christianity is that the goal is conversion. Everyone’s an evangelist. Truthfully, the objective is only to ‘plant the seed’ (Matthew 13:38-39), that is, to bring awareness of Christianity to whomever he/she is speaking. In Project Mayhem, the same argument can be made. Members were required to make ‘human sacrifices’. These sacrifices, as with the example of poor Raymond Hessel the aspiring veterinarian, means giving another person a near-life experience – bringing about awareness of their own power. “We have to show these men and women freedom… and courage by frightening them.” Each member makes a number of human sacrifices and recruits new members. Each one of those new members does the same. It’s all part of a larger plan.

Looking towards the future, a key component in Christianity and Project Mayhem is complete trust in the followed. Christians find comfort in the faith that God is running the control booth upstairs. We each play our individual role, and that is enough. Things that occur happen for a purpose; Christians often rationalize painful occurrences with the assurance that all is part of God’s plan. Before the creation of the earth, He knew the past, present, and future of each individual and each blade of grass. In Project Mayhem, this ‘trust’ is explicitly written in. Built into the code of Project Mayhem is a no-question policy. Built into the infrastructure of the mayhem is mutual anonymity, mutual ignorance. A follower must trust Tyler. No one but Tyler knows the entire plan; everyone else just plays his own single role in the big picture. But then again, what is the ultimate big picture?

For Christians, the Book of Revelations offers the future. It prophesizes coming disasters and the second coming of Christ. It is in this second coming that all followers place their hopes for complete salvation of the world. Fight Club mirrors a similar situation. In opening and ending scene, havoc ensues on the entire world as Arson, Mischief and Misinformation Committees ruin civilization to ‘save’ the world. But “what comes next in Project Mayhem, nobody except Tyler knows” (125). Tyler presumably passes away and this marks the equivalent ‘death of Christ.’ But in the final chapter, the narrator lies in a ward while all his followers wait for his second coming. It is in the narrator that the followers place their hopes of the final ‘salvation’ through Project Mayhem. “We look forward to getting you back” (208).

Short of interviewing the author, it is hardly possible to determine whether this connection to Christianity was intended or just a subconscious effect. Regardless, however, noting this religious nature of Fight Club provides insight as to how the novel developed a cult following outside of the fictional space monkeys. Perhaps those renegade waiters and founders of local fight clubs in the real world are simply searching for a religion, and Fight-Club-ism is their good fit. Or maybe there actually does exist a Fight Club, a Project Mayhem, and a Tyler Durden. Then again, that’s probably a hoax. But unfortunately I must stop here, as the first rule of fight club is that…

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[1] lives: Romans 8:11; 1 Corinthians 3:16; speaks: Acts 8:29; 10:19; 11:12; 21:11; 1 Timothy 4:1; Hebrews 3:7; guides: Romans 8:14, 26; Acts 13:2; 20:28

[2] Recall in the idea of the Trinity, Jesus, God, and the Holy Spirit are three different forms of one God.

Semester Endings, Semester Thoughts

As always, the collegiate life leaves little room for much pondering outside abstract algebra and philosophical theories. Free moments are often spent doing more menial tasks -- tasks the require less brain power. The waking hours of school do their part of draining what paltry mental energy we have left.

But nonetheless, there are a few thoughts/posts that I hope to address soon. 1.) Attempting to explain parts of my concepts of Christianity 2.) How Fight Club and Christianity really aren't so different 3.) Updates on the road to medical school.. and more.

O Come All Ye Winter Break... Joyful and Triumphant.

Happy Holidays

Tim Soo

Memory Lane

I went to court this morning, and wasted a good hour listening to the bickering of lawyers and unruly traffic violators. I did, however, get to read another chapter of Love in the Time of Cholera. Writers who still sound fluidly profound after translation amaze me.

But whether due to the mindless drivel of an entirely too early day or perhaps due to the life reflection demanded by application essays, I decided to read through my high school senior letters. At the time of this writing, I've realized two things. 1.) There are some people I need to catch up with. 2.) I've approached college in a very different manner.

High school was an incredible time in which I became acquainted with so many through various aspects of the Parkview life. In each letter I read, there were tinges of reference to the past -- the friendships and relations reflected events dating back to elementary school. I was reminded of the fickleness of middle school, the drama of high school, and the strong bonds gained and lost in the process of growing up.

To those reading and reminiscing of that similar past, I say to you - growing up sucks, huh? Senior year of high school marked the high point of reputation, of 17-18 years of maturity, and knowledge that we were soon about to re-create ourselves. In colleges, professions, travel -- whatever the next step after 12th grade was -- the past was, for the most part, erased. No one you would meet now would remember the embarrassing nicknames that followed you through middle school. No one would know how you were the 'awkward' kid or the 'popular' kid in your preteen years. In fact, there would be little that would carry over. Time to start over.

As the final year in college comes to a close, I again reach that point of recognition. It is time to start anew. But interestingly, this time around we are ready. We're prepared and almost welcoming the next step. The past four years spanned both more and less time than the previous eighteen --but in that time we've grown up, identified goals, and discovered more about ourselves than perhaps we want to admit.

To those reading this from a linked facebook post, read on. I want to thank you for the senior letter, the memories, and friendships. Hopefully this might rekindle some happier thoughts of the past and give us strength to move forward as we once again begin the process of starting over.

I'm referencing the letters when writing these, so it might not completely make sense to you now...

Steph F - Apparently I got your only sticker on Toga Day. I'm still proud of that accomplishment

Clint B - Always my brother in Christ. I respect you on so many levels.

Mallory K - Still can't believe you sent letters out to the entire senior class. Wow.

Archana K - No more Sci Oly all nighters. But knowing you, you've continued the trend into college...

Anna R - So apparently I teased you for your 'dance moves' at some party (according to your letter)? Hmm, sorry about that. Hope you're doing well!

Shalini R - a line from your letter "[thanks for] telling me I'm smart although I'm really just gay." lol. Let's have lunch soon (I'll show you your letter)

Cindy T - You signed it 'Cindy T-to-the-an'. Don't you feel amazingly cool?! Oh, and the words 'freaking', 'gag', and 'chickens' are bolded. Oh and you called Stephen Yang homosexual. Figures.

Sara K - We did have quite the few odd convos (referencing your letter). Hope you're rockin' college.

Michael N - Three years later, and people are already confusing us again... Let's figure out a time to meet up. Seems silly that we're on the same campus and never see each other.

Erin H - Thinking back, I hate that I drifted from the orig. group in the final years of HS. Hopefully we'll get a chance to amend that. By the way, you win for most colorful letter...

Ji Won L - No, Ji Won (responding to your letter), when YOU are rich and famous, you buy ME dinner.

Hannah R - You wrote, "P.S. Brian thinks there's some reason he can't read this. Haha!" It's okay Hannah, I'll never let him know...

Bobby A - Thirty years from now, I will call you up and leave a message saying only one thing "boobu... uhh. nevermind." Hope all is well bud.

Seema J - You should read your letter. You'd laugh. We've been through a lot together, eh? Let me know when you want to grab dinner!

Matt N - You used the phrase "hella tight" and "stay cool. stay asian." in your letter. Love it.

Brian W - Whatever happened to our 'road trip' plan? Oh, and you need to visit more.

Melissa H - That denim factory tour was nauseating... Hope you're doing well at Tech!

Anna H - "I like your full name, and I'm going to miss saying it. Maybe I should just say it five times every night before I say my prayers and go to sleep" Haha, that made me laugh. Sad that we don't see each other anymore! What happened to our amazing string duo! Lunch next time you're in town. And bring your cello.

Cathy V - Check your email.

Abby B - 1.) No I was never in PHS Student Council 2.) I miss your quirky presence! Hope all is well!

Gauthami P - I'm twin number ONE. And I think it's about time we did a Tech/Emory visit.

Carlye N - Carlyle! Let's go back to the days of Queen... or just meet up on a plane again.

Natalie J - To this day, you are still the only one who calls me "T". And yes, I remember that AgCl is white... so when are we hanging out?

Aradhna S - my econ wife... man we were poor.

Nik K - Your letter is hilarious. I don't think there was a single complete sentence in it. Hope you're doin' well. Let's catch up when you get a chance.

Misha G - Still can't believe you wrote me a textbook for my senior letter. An entire page was dedicated to making sure we kept in touch, and I haven't done a good job of that :/. But it's okay, we'll now return to reminiscing about microphones, glitter, homecoming...

Steph W - Hope you still aren't as boy-crazy as you were when you wrote this letter....

And of course, thanks to all my family who wrote powerful senior letters. It's amazing how much of it still applies now.

Winter air rocks.

I. Am. Awesome...?: Secondary Applications

How does one write an essay that says "Yes, I am awesome. This is why you want me" without using the words 'I', 'me', or 'awesome'?

Personal Statements: Conclusion

A month later and countless edits from amazingly caring people, and I've finished step one of the medical school application process. The application should have been submitted weeks ago, but I do not regret the long process it's taken me to get to this point.

The final version is less interesting, full of subtly hinted activities that I've done in my college career. Instead, I'd like to share version five (of eleven), only because it's the one that I wrote most comfortably and was most comfortable with, (although ultimately it did not serve the purpose of my medical school application essay).

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In times of difficulty, we obtain lasting knowledge. While facts and formulas fade, what remains is a core set of principles, the basic lemmas with which we decide how to respond, react, and ultimately progress. In the unforeseen moments of tribulation we add and adapt to those principles, molding and reshaping ourselves towards constant betterment, that is, to say that the "us" of today has improved upon that of yesterday. Since childhood I had wished to become a doctor, but it is my experiences in those moments of difficulty that confident that I want to pursue a career in medicine.

"He who climbs Fuji-san once, is a great man. He who climbs it twice, is an idiot.” Thirty-six hours on a mountain with a pulled muscle and little oxygen led me to question whether climbing it once was enough to consider myself idiotic. It hurt. A lot. But upon reaching the apex, all doubts subsided. My body had been pushed beyond its known limitations and more importantly, persevered. Above the clouds against the rising sun, I stood less in awe of the surreal scene before me but more in awe of the human creation, wondering just how many billions of biological processes worked together that day to keep me alive, to find enough energy to will myself past all points of surrender, and to give me the strength to ignore the unfortunate truth: I still had to climb down. But it was then I was sure. I wanted to study medicine.

Back on the ground, my daily work at the research institute had come to a standstill. Learning to communicate in a Japanese lab had been difficult enough, but adding on the stress of a failed cell line, I was beginning to feel boxed in. Silently I envisioned future nights as a physician dealing with similar circumstances of hopelessness and mental fatigue. But in that future as in then, I knew I would have to find ways to continue. Unwilling to allow an entire summer succumb to a single ineffectual strain of cells, I took a syringe to my arm--if their cells didn't work, I would try my own.

After a successful three months in Japan, I flew to Panama and immediately found my brain's agility being tested beyond any previous capacity. it seemed as though years had passed since I had last heard fluent English, much less Spanish. And for the third time that day, I reddened, having just told a very confused taxi driver, "Sumimasen--no wait, sorry, I mean--Permiso..." Over the coming weeks, it quickly became necessary to learn how to approach each new cultural situation with the appropriate delicacy and tact: a skill that will undoubtedly prove invaluable to a physician in a rapidly shrinking world.

But of all the attributes required of a doctor, I have learned to rank compassion among the highest. In the Panama study abroad program our group of nine travelled from place to place, rarely staying for more than a handful of days. One such stop was at the Ngobe indigenous reservation, a poverty-ridden region far removed from any true source of medical care. There I met Lula, my homestay little sister.

Though silent in nature, she spoke volumes in smiles. After a day’s journey I lifted her off the muddied ground and with my free hand, motioned to a first-aid kit. In tacit assent she put forth an injured foot--the mile-long trek had not treated her bare soles kindly. While tending to her injuries, I allowed her tiny fingers to fiddle with my unkempt hair, attempting to distract her from the sting of the bactine. She winced, burrowing into my shoulder. I gently smiled in apology; but slowly, a deeper source of anguish unraveled in my chest.

Lula was one of the many orphans of the village, and many of the Ngobe children would not see adulthood due to common, curable diseases. In that instant, I felt powerless to do much else aside from treating her cuts and scrapes. There was little I could do to prevent her future sicknesses; there was little I could do to bring medical care to the village. All I could do then was show compassion to her and the others I would meet that day—compassion I will one day forge in the bonds of the doctor-patient relationship during similar seemingly hopeless situations. But fortunately in this case, their situation was far from hopeless.

In the following semester, I founded FewForChange, a non-profit organization dedicated to raising scholarships for Lula and others in similar situations. With the money raised, we will give their future generations a chance at education—the option we deemed most probable to end the cycle of poverty. To date, our group of twenty (and counting) has raised two full scholarships. I have recently returned from Panama to ensure that all the steps are underway--at least two students next year will have the funds for transportation, food, and tuition.

With each difficulty that I have known in the brief years of my life, I have found an opportunity for accomplishment and personal growth. Medicine will offer a lifetime of such opportunities, and I look forward to the lessons each one will hold. And while some will undoubtedly sneer at such a pursuit, I invite them to remember the words of Peter Marshall: “When we long for life without difficulties, remember that oaks grow strong in contrary winds and diamonds are made under pressure.”

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It is (as is much of my writing, I feel) overly dramatized, but when trying to review and draw conclusions from the past years of life, the writing tends to sway in that direction. Either way, I thought it'd be interesting to share because this essay represents one reason I wish to study medicine, and the outlook I am taking towards this future career.

Homeless Run

So I run the two miles home from work now. There was a seminar with free lunch at the lab, for which they ordered too many sandwiches. Come time to leave, there were still six half-subs lying around and a full one. No one wanted them but I couldn't bear to see them go into the garbage.

I wrapped the half ones in foil, loaded them into my backpack and started running home.

Partway down Boylston, I see a homeless man. I say "Hey, would you like a sandwich?"
He smiles and says "Shu-ah" (sure). Well, I have six so I say, "How about another?" He says "Definitely! What kind are they?" I'm not sure as they had gotten mixed up when I wrapped them in foil, but as it turns out he didn't really care anyways.

I feel as though I'm a sandwich delivery man. The subs were in the sports drink side pocket so while I'm running I just reach back and hand them off.

The second man looked fairly respectable, contrary to normal attire of the homeless. He's holding up a sign that says "My son and I are homeless. Please help." He's relatively young, forties I'd say. He looks stern, as if life's fortune had taken a turn for the worse and he shouldn't be in that situation. He's wearing a decent button down shirt and khaki's. It makes me think he and his son probably live out of a car.

"Sir, would you like a sandwich?" He immediately asks, "What kind are they?" I give the same answer; I wasn't sure. "Have they been refridgerated?" "Yes," I tell him. I explain where the subs came from. He accepts two, says a quick word of thanks, and I'm off. Back to my run.

The last guy was my favorite. He was seated in front of Walgreens or CVS--I forget--which I can only assume is a good begging spot as customers file out with change in their pockets fresh from the cashier. I wonder if the homeless life has become more difficult with more and more cashless transaction.

Anyways, he couldn't have been more than 25 and had a fairly happy look to him. He actually reminded me of Maciej (from Japan), at least in physical appearance and demeanor. "Hey bud, would you like a sandwich?" He immediately brightens up and says "Yeah man! I really just want food and everyone else keeps giving me money! Thanks!" I could see the excitement in his eyes. When was the last time that he had had a good sub-sandwich? Even before I jet off, he's digging into the first sandwich. Chicken salad sub, I think it was.

With a backpack considerably lighter and almost back to the house, I return. Gotta say, after the 20 bucks dilemma, I felt pretty good about myself. A 2 mile run in 25 minutes while helping the homeless. Life doesn't get much better than that.

20 Bucks

I went out with a newly found friend (and extremely English) Alexandra and Colin yesterday to Boston Commons. After making utter fools of ourselves with the hilarity that ensued from an inability to play frisbee effectively (while counting in Serbo-Croat), we headed back. As a true tourist, Alex was taking pictures; meanwhile a uniquely dressed man approached us with a form about the Aids Walk.

Twenty dollars he asked of Colin and me: A donation to support this man who was HIV positive. And so I donated twenty dollars.

But the entire way home I wondered, why? Why did I donate, when I myself am not in a financially secure situation? Twenty dollars is quite the sum of money. As we walked away, another gentlemen spoke with the same stout interestingly clothed man and they held a conversation that made us question the validity of his request. Was it a scam? I later found out the AIDS walk ended a month ago.

Regardless, for some reason I decided to give this man twenty dollars. It was not out of generosity - my own organization needed the donation. I walked away not regretting what I had done, but more I was curious as to why did I do something that was so innately out of character for me. A few coins or dollars--yes, I would give to a seemingly genuine cause or person in need. But twenty dollars was a high sum of money for anyone to receive in an easy handout.

Overall, I feel blessed that I'm able to wonder about why I gave him twenty dollars, rather than being the one required to scam or beg for money. What scares me the most still, is that for all the reasoning and logic I have planted in my mind, there are still brief moments when I cast rationality aside and act far from who I believe myself to be. So then one has to wonder in the moments when no logical conclusion can be drawn from our anomalous actions, does what we do serve a greater purpose? Did that twenty dollars become part of a change beyond the context of what I can understand and for that reason it was destined to happen? In the end, I can only hope that that gentleman's motives were true and that my donation was in fact a donation to AIDS walk, but at the very least this one source of randomness has caused me to reflect and wonder... just what am I in the inner-workings of the grand scheme of the universe?

Yes. I know that was mystic. And it was an illogical post in itself. But in the confusion, it becomes difficult to think it a sequential manner. Happy July!

Personal Statement

If someone wished to hunt me down using this blog, I've realized the task would not be difficult.

I've come to realize that writing a personal statement signifies much more than the simple task of writing an essay. Whereas general writing often finds fluidity in train of thought as characters move about or theses are proven, this task of answering "why I want to go to medical school" is a much more stagnant process.

Many applicants will still approach the 5000 character work with only a single thought in mind: What will the admissions committee think? While it is a worthwhile pursuit to write with the purpose and audience in mind, I've learned that subjection and chance play too large a role to be able to do so effectively. Instead, one should write for themselves because in effect the very answering of the question requires a reassessment and evaluation of the 20+ years that has led to this very moment. And who, then, is your true audience if not it is yourself?

Thinking back to a nearly day-by-day basis, I attempt to recall reasoning processes, powerful choices, and important events that make the current version of me different than me five years ago. Aside from the societal perception of maturation attributed to a greater age, why can I consider myself more wisened and for what reasons can I laugh at the naivete of my former self? And once we can answer those questions, we then must dissect how we reasoned and arrived at those answers. In essence, the personal statement allows us to more concretely define and understand who we are.

I implore everyone, regardless of whether the essay will be read by anyone, to write one.

The prompt is unimportant and even unnecessary. For my purposes, it happens to be "Why do you want to go to medical school?" because that happens to be the current phase of my academic career. But the question could just as easily be "Why do I want to become _____?" or "Why do I believe ____?" Without a topic, the process comes just as easily.

There is, however, an added benefit of having an audience outside yourself. Writing this essay moves at a glacial speed because I've begun to feel the need to word phrases and sentences to adequately reflect the level of thought put into them. For the past three weeks I've written roughly 6-7 pages of which has been edited down to half a page.

It has truly become a method of meeting yourself and in many ways it feels as if I'm reacquainting myself to a friend to which I haven't spoken for many years. And best of all, it's offering much insight on how to move forward.

Boston is lovely.

Boston...

New summer, revival of blog?

Just spent a week in Panama, and have now arrived in Boston starting work at Schepens.

:)

Looking back...

Reading my first Japan posts is quite funny.

Not because I've become such a mature person and am revelling in the naivete of my former self... nothing so complex. Instead, I laugh at how much my purpose in writing gradually changed. The first few posts include details about who, what, where, when... but ignored the true feelings of defeat and stress I had on those first days. I kept them upbeat and brushed over the internal struggle... b/c it was just the beginning. I can't wait to read through it all again...

Tim Soo

Wanting Home

I guess this story will be told in pieces...

The semester had ended. I hadn't slept, but I finished my presentation, my paper, and had bound and printed. I slept through saying good-bye to my eight semester-mates... I'm not sure I would have known what to say either way. We were brought together by this program, but in any other typical environment, would we have been friends?

I headed towards Nicaragua on a 24 hour bus. 24 hours from Panama to Nicaragua. The entire time I became very aware of two things. 1.) I was alone. By this point I had been alone before in Panama... but always with some guidance here in there. I hadn't truly been alone navegating a foreign country since Japan. 2.) I just wanted to go home.

Yay, I was meeting up with Chelsea. Yay, we were going to explore Nicaragua, Costa Rica, and Panama. I just wanted to go home. I began to realize how fragile my mind was. A semester of completely foreign inundation without a true comfort zone, seven months of not having a home, not having the familiar.... I stopped thinking about finally finishing my journey because my eyes would well up at the thought.... I just wanted to go home.

That's all I'll put in this post, b/c that's all that's necessary for now. I tell people I began to recognize the limits of being human... or rather I better understood my own limits. And these limits aren't in the sense of "I don't want to do this anymore"... it was "I can't". It's an odd feeling where your subconscious desires begin to impress completely over your consciousness. Fighting against what you don't want wasn't an option. I finally had to admit to myself. I'm done. Let me go home.

It makes me wonder about soldiers. What level beyond my own over-dramatacized perceptions does a soldier reach when drafted into war for years? Granted, I'm imagining soldiers of the more historical wars where drafts were still instituted; but even today, at what point does the mind "break" and permanently change as a result to surviving an environment where your current brain process can no longer easily adapt within its comfortable flexibility? At what point does one begin to change?

For all still reading this blog, I send my gratitude. Writing and reflecting reveals and captures new ideas, new thoughts, and... the essence of experience that isn't attained just by "thinking back". I don't think I would have continued if not for the hope of a greater audience--that my words somehow could minutely affect (positively) the life of someone else. Thanks.

Tim Soo

Updates

College life on an actual college campus has brought be back to the "real world", I suppose. Part of my mind always goes back to the experiences I gained while abroad, and I'll never forget what I learned.

Maybe one day I'll get to finish the blog about Panama, but time for now is definitely a limiting factor. During the second half of the trip, we went up to a Banana plantation, where I learned that a huge percentage of banana's are thrown away because they aren't the perfect size, or are the extra seventh in a bunch that is supposed to be six. All those banana's gone to waste... it makes me wonder how many people would suffer less if those banana's could somehow get transported to the hungry...

We also went to Costa Rica to Earth University, an entire university (headed by Kellogg based on sustainable agriculture. The students work the entire school: the organic farms, the castration of the piglets... everything. We stayed in extremely nice cabins and got to tour the school to see what they do. I actually met a Japanese professor there; unfortunately, most my Japanese had already escaped me.

We stayed with a homestay in La Argentina in Costa Rica. I met some people from a CR program staying with the same family, and we ended up taking a hike and swimming in the mountain river... very refreshing. There I had a pet ocelot (jaguar-like cat), a cat, and a couple birds. Needless to say I was very happy with my stay.

We spent a week in Bocas del Toro doing a Marine Biology course. This had to be one of my favorites. We stayed at the Smithsonian cabins, had internet, and were out on the clearest waters for 4-5 hours each day. And we had a private chef who was quite good in the kitchen. Yum. It was there we watched the elections... Hurrah Obama!

I'm beginning to realize that there is so much more to the rest of this trip that I cannot afford to capture in just a few paragraphs. I will come back and finish it one day. I learned more about myself in those last months than in the rest of the trip. It deserves to be done justice.

Until then, I find it wise to continue blogging, if not for an audience, than for myself. I quickly found myself blanking on details... soon I might forget the emotions I had at each place.. and even quicker as I enter med school and the future, I may begin to view this period in my life as just one event of many.

I will say one thing though. Time passed quicker in the States. I went every week for 7 months without a real routine. Each day was long and pressing... yet exciting. I was exhausted from sun up to sundown... but life passed by slower. Coming back, I felt I hadn't seen some people, or experience some flavors in years... people were confused why I felt this way.. it wasn't even a year, right?

Time is relative. Half of the semester has gone by, and I don't even feel like it has really started yet. That's two months in. Two months in the Japan trip and I was almost done. In my life I want to live for a long time, not in the sense of second, minutes, hours... but time in the sense of always learning and experiencing. Life should pass me like my two months in Japan, not the two months that have just gone by, that I've barely gotten to know.

Welcome home, Tim.

A little more...

I know, shame on me. It's been a while.

After El Boquete, we opted to drive back to the city (rather than fly). It saved money.. but added time. A 30 minute plane ride translated to 8 hours by bus since we were in the mountains. Eventually we made it back home.

The next day we were off again to BCI (Barro Colorado Island). It's a Smithsonian Institute where scientists from around the world study the various species there.

BCI a fairly interesting phenomenon in itself. The island was created from the flooding of the surrounding lands when the canal was constructed. Therefore the only way to get there is by boat. Yet somehow, all types of species managed to get on and off the island... including large cats (jaguars, tigers, the like). How? Maybe all species are secretly really good swimmers.

Anyways, highlights of that one night trip. Nice facilities, Spoke English (though it was awkward), had a cool tour guide who'd worked in many places over the years, enthusiastic lecturer on ants, and the bat lady. Gotta say, watching her monitor her equipment that picked up all the sounds we couldn't hear was pretty cool. We'd see activity on the computer and within seconds a bat would fly by. Cool, neh?